St Therese

In what circumstance, other than in the name of God, could dragging the decayed remains of a consumptive 24 year old woman around the UK be considered socially acceptable?

A shin bone and some from her feet will be taken to 28 sites over the coming months. Those that have arranged this macabre spectacle are expecting large crowds, as her remains allegedly promote "healing and reconciliation".

St Therese's potent posthumus power was harnessed seven years ago, when her patella, phalanges and left thigh were brough to Baghdad to prevent the Iraq conflict. To good effect, of course.

It does make one wonder. It really does...

The bleating of an old man

It’s the pope’s fault that I’m slowly turning into my father – old curmudgeon that he is.

You see, the grand wizard pontiff warned Muslim leaders recently not to misuse religion for political means. Which was a bit rich, to say the least. Before I knew it, I was shouting at the telly again.

I mean really, when has the Catholic Church ever restricted its meddling? Given the slightest chance, it interferes in all manner of things. Take their ‘loving and omnipotent’ god for a start, who, despite being responsible for our entire universe, would still like to micro-manage your sex life.

Only as a tactic of retreat has the Church ever attempted to restrict its interference. As it continues its inexorable decline into irrelevance for the vast majority of us, many factions of the church have retreated into the unfalsifiable territory of ‘Spirituality’ and become nothing more than a pathetic foe to the relentless force of rationality, science and human learning.

Yet the pope still pontificates upon morality like it’s his God given right to do so. Seriously, it boils my piss.

When it comes to the moral teachings of Christianity, or any religion for that matter, they are largely uncontroversial because almost any moral system must find a place for their tenets: Do to others as you would have them do to you, try to be honest, peaceful and considerate whenever you can.

Moral content peculiar to religion however, is invariably perverse, twisted and bizarre. Perhaps they are of their time – a one of violence, pestilence and poverty. Nevertheless, I struggle to understand why considering the Cormorant, Lapwing or Weasel unclean conferred any advantage to the faithful.

Religion offers nothing of specific value any more. What it does offer, distinct from other, rational codes of morality is miserable, sick and something we can do without, quite frankly.

Now mother, where did I leave my slippers?

Blasphemy

Any restaurant that puts leaflets on its tables telling customers “How to enjoy” its food has a problem, or at the very least a lack of confidence.

We do enjoy being told what to do of course - filling one’s belly on the tit of authority does sooth the 'soul'. However, stuffing your gut at an all you can eat Taybarn’s buffet is a bleak, soulless affair despite any command to enjoy it.

Now I don’t mean to be a snob, which of course I am, but I did spend Saturday lunch time boggling at obese families shovelling their week’s calorific quota onto a single plate of bloated slop and marvelling at anorexic waifs making confused points of nibbling exclusively on salad leaves at an all you can eat restaurant.

There were ordinary families of course. And if I could be so bold as to count ourselves amongst them, then we might assume that they’d rather not have been noticed.

Not somewhere we’ll be rushing back to.

Anyway, I felt I should run early yesterday morning to take advantage of the empty Easter Sunday roads and burn off the Taybarn calories before girding myself for the considerably more palatable onslaught that is the mother-in-law’s Sunday lunch.

The route took me through the back of the church yard, past the arched main entrance where ordinarily I would scarper at full tilt down the steep path to the main gate.

I didn’t expect to literally run into the vicar who was stood welcoming his congregation to the early Easter service.

He was a pleasant, somewhat eager twenty something – bright eyed and bouncy enough for him to skip aside in his flowing white robe to let me past without a serious collision.

“Shit, Christ! Sorry!” I blurted out.

He didn’t even flinch at my blasphemy and gave me a big, holy smile and said “No problem mate, enjoy your run!”

He had Nike trainers on under his robe.

Nice bloke.

Heaven is real?

I overheard the kids having their first theological debate today. Well, I say debate - if shouting at the top of your lungs and spitting Hovis Best of Both at each other is debate, then that's what they were having.

Dom was offended that his sister didn't believe in heaven, which came as a surprise to me, as we're not raising them heathen any more than we're raising them god fearing. She seems to have come to her own conclusion on the matter. (Neither of them spotted my 'Go Girl!' air punch from the dining room.)

Anyway, the argument went something like this;

"But Meg, heaven is real! It's where you go when you die."

"No it isn't."

"Yes it is."

"No it is NOT!"

"YES IT IS!"

...cut three minutes of tit for tat...

Finally Dom came in with his killer argument for the existence of the afterlife;

"Heaven is pink and has nuts and everything."

"Eh?"

"I know it is, 'cos horses are brown and not green and I've seen horses, so I know. "

I'm feeling rather proud of Dom's nascent logic skills at this point, though what green horses had to to with heaven escaped me.

"Aaaand, I've seen heaven on TV - it's pink and cloudy with nuts. So heaven is real! HA!"

And so I realise that Dom's heaven is from Ice Age 2 where the squirrel dies and goes to his special nutty nirvana in the sky...
Bless 'im.

A long shot

The department of stating the bleedin' obvious have demonstrated that a belief in God can relieve pain. They gave electric shocks to 12 Roman Catholics and 12 atheists as they studied a painting of the Virgin Mary. It was found that the Catholics seemed able to block out much of the pain, whereas the atheists had no such luck.

They discovered that in contemplating the Madonna, the religious were able to activate an area of the brain associated with conditioning the experience of pain.

What else is religion for, if not the amelioration of pain? I would also like to point out that an inflated balloon up the arse can induce similar effects.

Religion is the (ig)noble lie that diverts the masses' attention from the cold, faceless specter of chance. It is Marx's "heart of a heartless world" and provides meaning to meaningless suffering and hope to the hopeless.

What better way to make sense of random, tragic occurrences than to give them a place in the Grand Plan? In the midst of them, rather than doing anything of use, repeated messages of complaint can be made to God's technical support line.

It's little wonder then, that faith induces the placebo effect. Perhaps they're two and the same. Religion being the "opium of the people" and all that.

Not that these mental gymnastics are peculiar to the religious. Only yesterday I had this conversation with a colleague presiding over a minor disaster;

"Well, I guess everything happens for a reason"

"I didn't realise you were religious?" I asked.

"Not at all, it's just that what goes around comes around. Karma and all that..."

"So, in God's absence you think that the universe picks up its tally card and keeps count of our insignificant fuck ups and indiscretions? A cosmic balance sheet? Utter bollocks..."

In truth, I didn't actually say that. A single Spock eyebrow took care of it quite nicely.

Mind, it pays not to think too hard about our arbitrary universe, atheist or not. Well, it does for me anyway. I choose to concentrate on that which I find beautiful to ameliorate my existential pain.

That, and reminding myself that I'm perched on top of a food chain with a full belly, in a wealthy country, spinning on a habitable planet, poking away at a Sony Vaio keyboard for fuck sake.

And what are the odds on that?

Then it must be true

Found in Gateshead today.

and the award for the best Internet beard goes to...

Perhaps I wasn't the only one to get an email from Gerry Rzeppa inviting me to check out the children's book he'd written in response to Prof Dawkins' "militant atheism".

To be fair, it's not a bad read, despite it being a typical theistic confusion of ideas. He writes well so I thought he deserved a polite reply.

As a result we've had a rather pleasent debate that I think may be worth sharing with you. Not that we discussed anything remotely new you understand;



ME: Hi Gerry,

Thanks for the link to your rather interesting book / poem. Despite it jarring with my personal world view, I enjoyed the read as you write well. It does bother me however, how you've typcast those without belief as bitter nihlists who simply dismiss everything as "dust".

I can see how this conclusion may be reached, however it comes from a brittle undestanding of love, meaning and beauty in my view. There needn't be a source or absolute quality to these things for them to be appreciated fully.

I put it to you that people seek God's protection from existential nothingness simply because it is easier than facing the dichotomy face on - that is - knowing the universe to be pointless yet finding ourselves full of point. God may provide easy answers and emotional comfort to the needy, however it isn't the only way to appreciate life, morality and love.

Anyway, it's not my place to debate with you - you're seeking a much greater quarry than I in Mr Dawkins.

Unfortunately, I won't be publicising your book for the above reasons.

Best Regards, Jamon

GERRY: Hello, .

Thanks for the cordial reply. I greatly appreciate that. As I'm sure you know, there's a wide range of emotional responses to these issues!


I agree with you that it is not only possible but very common for individuals to appreciate various aspects of life without the notion of God intruding. I'm not sure, however, that one can fully appreciate such things. As the master atheist Bertram Russell admitted, near the end of his days, full appreciation of anything includes a feeling of gratitude which is left unsatisfied without a proper object. In short, it seems we find ourselves needing -- or at least wanting -- Someone to thank. Without that, our cup may not be empty -- but it doesn't overflow, either.


Secondly, I think many people are not in a position to face life -- much less enjoy it -- with nothing but the courage that a stark "realism" requires. I've known several quadriplegics over the years, for example, and while at least one of them was able to cope as an agnostic, it would have been impossible for the others to persevere without a deeper -- or should I say, higher -- philosophy. It's hard to live without hope. Especially when you can't scratch your own nose.


That's one of the things my little poem is about. Almost any outlook will do when you're in good health on a sunny day. But how do the competing philosophies of life stack up when they're tested under stress? The father in my story behaves as he does because he's working very hard to be rationally consistent. "No sense crying over spilled molecules," logic says. But his emotions, of course, say something entirely different. And since he can't accept the alternative presented him, he ends up lashing out at the preacher -- whom he doesn't even know -- and his "cognitive dissonance," his pain, is revealed. At heart, he may be, as you suggest, bitter. But I hardly think he's as much of an accomplished nihilist as you think. No, he's much more human than that. And I left his ultimate fate, at the end of the story, up in the air for this very reason. There's hope for the guy. Perhaps there's hope still for you.

Gerry

PS. It may (or may not) interest you to know that I was very philosophical, even as a youth, and did some serious exploration in the austere deserts of atheism 'way back then. Curiously enough, I was turned to seek greener pastures by an unexpected week-long bout with a severe case of diarrhea, during which I quickly discovered that I needed either more fortitude or a different philosophy. I guess I took the easy way out! Perhaps God will bless you with a little adversity.


PPS. Are you quite sure thoughts like these wouldn't be of interest -- and perhaps even helpful -- to the readers of your blog?


ME: Gerry,

To address some of your points;

>Thanks for the cordial reply. I greatly appreciate that.

My pleasure.

>[a] full appreciation of anything includes a feeling of gratitude which is left unsatisfied without a proper object. In short, it seems we find ourselves needing -- or at least wanting -- Someone to thank. Without that, our cup may not be empty -- but it doesn't overflow, either.

You're right of course. Many find themselves yearning for something absolute to be thankful to. It's almost as if this need invokes the notion of god though, don't you think? Just because we have this need doesn't mean there's something there to meet it. Strikes me as rather naive to think that there is.

> Secondly, I think many people are not in a position to face life -- much less enjoy it -- with nothing but the courage that a stark "realism" requires.

Again I find myself agreeing with you, though it depends on what you mean by "stark realism".

I have a friend who describes himself as an "atheist, nihlist & misanthrope". He reads Satre, Schopenhauer and Camus all the time. Unsuprisingly I'm sure he suffers from depression. Personally I think he's looking at things from the wrong angle. Whilst I agree with him that everything is pointless (if you choose to reduce life to the lowest common denominator), I don't suffer from the same bleakness. You see for me, if existence is ultimately pointless, then it's pretty pointless to worry and get down about it. There's so much to appreciate and make sense of in the mean time!

I've spent many years now working with people in late stage dementia - people for whom it could be argued, are in desperate need of spiritual comfort. Yet in my experience, the most effective comfort to be given isn't "higher philosophy" or even worship - it is proximity to other human beings - physical and emotional comfort communicated through smiles, embraces and laughter.

Satre said that "hell is other people". I couldn't disagree more - "heaven" can be found in the other - a very real and immediate 'bliss'. We underestimate ourselves when we argue that these feelings of 'love' have to be something anchored in divinity. Our subjective experience of it (or yearning for it) may overwhelm us, but its basis is biological, even if our self-centred perspectives make it into a gestalt - larger than the sum of its parts.

> guess I took the easy way out! Perhaps God will bless you with a little adversity.

Believe me - I'm no stranger to adversity ;)

>Are you quite sure thoughts like these wouldn't be of interest -- and perhaps even helpful -- to the readers of your blog?

Perhaps.

Cheers, Jamon

GERRY: Jamon,

It seems, then, there's some common ground between us. That's a good thing.

I agree that those in late stage dementia -- and those in lesser troubles, as well -- are more in need of "proximity to other human beings" than abstract philosophical and theological maxims. Though God sometimes comforts me with a mere thought, it works better -- and He knows it -- if the requisite thought is delivered with the butter and honey of human compassion. This is, of course, nothing new. "Pure religion," says James, "is this: to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction." Or as songwriter Don Francisco admonishes his fellow Christians, "After you stop the bleeding, you can show them the promised land." But I think it's a mistake to believe that compassion alone will do the trick. Your "patients" will again be left with an ultimately unsatisfying cup, not-quite-full.



And I fully agree that Satre is wrong -- hell is definitely not other people. Rather, hell is utter separation from others -- including God. To be left with nothing but one's conscious self is the most terrifying of fates. Words can't do justice to the thought. Even Jesus' authoritative metaphor, "where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched," leaves many unenlightened.



I suspected you were "no stranger to adversity" or you wouldn't be strugging with these issues still. And you certainly wouldn't be writing so politely to someone like me about them! Solomon was right about where most men find wisdom (if they find it at all): "It is better to go to the house of mourning, than to go to the house of feasting: for that is the end of all men; and the living will lay it to his heart." Or, as C. S. Lewis put it, "God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pain: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world." I'm afraid that if we won't listen to the former, the latter will come upon us, individually and collectively. History reveals such a pattern, y'know...



ME: Hi Gerry,

If there's a common ground between us, then it's in knowing that some people yearn for something more in their lives - your 'full cup' metaphor for God I suppose. I often wonder what it is about life that people find so unfulfilling? Frankly, there is ample to fill my cup in the real world. Perhaps not to the brim, but the last time I overfilled a cup was helping my four year old fill a glass of milk. There's something about maturing into adulthood that allows one to appreciate ambivalence and that little in life is absolutely perfect. There is a beauty in this I think, and one that would be diluted in a nirvana such as heaven.

In short, life is good enough for me thankyouverymuch! I have no need or want for God to make it perfect!

>I suspected you were "no stranger to adversity" or you wouldn't be strugging with these issues still.

I wouldn't say I'm struggling with these issues firsthand Gerry, as I'd come to terms with my own existentialism some time back. This Sans God project, isn't to explore my own lack of faith per-se, it is to explore why other people 'fail' to come to the logical conclusion of strong agnosticism. This issue I'll admit to struggling with, as I find the god argument utterly non-sequitor and don't comprehend why people would choose 'delude' themselves as Dawkins would say.

You said it yourself - "To be left with nothing but one's conscious self is the most terrifying of fates. Words can't do justice to the thought." - this is the very point I made in my previous e-mail. For some, this existential notion is so unbearable (be it conscious or otherwise) that God is invoked as a balm to the spirit.

Drowning is the most terrifying of fates for me. Words can't do justice to the thought. That doesn't mean I can breathe under water does it?

>I can confidently say that whenever I've been possessed by a persistent, undeniable, and legitimate craving, there has been something in the world apparently designed to satisfy it.

Now, I'm assuming you agree with the basis of Darwinian evolution, yes? Then you will appreciate that it's no coincidence that organisms that have evolved on Earth have adapted to its resources?

>I have found, for example, readily available satisfactions for such diverse cravings as thirst, hunger, clothing, shelter, warmth, light, cleanliness, work, play, sleep, sexual desires;

Let's say we live on the deep sea bed and had evolved to metabolise the sulphur that volcanic plumes excrete. It would come as no surprise to find our home was abundant with the resources we require. It might even seem to us that someone had put them there deliberately...

In short, I think your cart is before your horse.

Anyway, on matters of faith (or lack of), language seems so inadequate to me. I suspect we could debate this tit for tat ad-infinitum! Nonetheless, I've found it interesting.

Many Thanks, Jamon

Oh you pretty atheists

You may enjoy listening to this while reading;



Vivaldi's Concerto Grosso in G Minor is one of my favourite pieces of Baroque music. I find it harmonically beautiful and structurally perfect. As with most music from this period, I'm satisfied when the music repeatedly resolves to its root key. It just feels 'right' to me. Safe, even.

Wholesome.

Just like the film where the boy gets the girl, good triumphs over evil and the mystery is solved - its all tied off nice and safe. It meets that very human need we have for meaning, structure and resolution. We are after all, just pattern recognition machines.

Classical music may not be up your street and to be fair, I'm hardly the buff myself (I'm an indy boy at heart), but the beauty of this piece is undeniable. It's as if it has an inherent, tangible beauty - something you might grasp in the palm of your hand.

Kittens are nice too. You can hold them in the palm of your hand if you want. Sunsets, grand vistas and stars are equally beautiful, if rather difficult to get a grip of. Yet still they feel 'right' somehow.

Love and morality have aesthetic similarities too I think, as it's tempting to see them as tangible entities - things that exist in and of themselves and outwith our own bodies.

I've had many a conversation with the faithful about this very phenomenon. They go something like this;

"Just look around you - look at how beautiful the world is. How could something so perfect be random?"

"Erm, we've evolved to see beauty in this 'apparent' order perhaps?"

"Yes, but it would have to be beautiful in the first place, surely?"

or,

"What is love?"

"Fucked if I know mate, but it feels nice..."

and so on...

I find that on these points of aesthetics, I have some commonality with believers. I've never struggled with the notion of gods per-se, but the nature of beauty, love and morality have had me tied up in knots for years. Like the Christian, who believes that God is the absolute root of beauty, I've struggled to get to grips with them as human, relativist constructions.

Until I decided to stop trying to get to the bottom of it and just get on with appreciating them for what they are.

John Cage, the avant-garde composer (and polar opposite to Vivaldi) once said;

"If you develop an ear for sounds that are musical it is like developing an ego. You begin to refuse sounds that are not musical and that way cut yourself off from a good deal of experience."

Well said, I say.

Colluding With The Alpha Male

Meg no longer believes in Santa, of this I'm sure. She makes a good show of faith in the old beardy one mind - asking me whether he's still on holiday after the Christmas rush and so on. But the way she looks at me whilst she's asking belies the truth that she's discovered.

It's all in the eyes.

Of course I play along with the charade;

"Well Meg, I think he'll be getting back to work soon, what with all the Nintendo DS's he'll have to make..."

This way, if we're both convincing enough, we can keep alive what's left of the magic for a little while longer.

On a related matter - they say that things come in threes. Take this evening for example. In the space of thirty seconds or so, I'd spilled my tea cup running to Meg who'd fallen off the doorstep and scuffed her knees just as Dom choked on a Jelly Baby. A high drama was had in suburbia for a while, I can tell you.

Similarly, in these past few weeks, I've come across a pair of mental Scientologists and been accosted on my doorstep by a fervent Jehova's Witness. And to complete this triad - I was invited to join an Alpha Course by a mate last night down the pub.

"Are you kidding?" I asked, "Me? I'd be a right pain in the arse, I swear."

The Christian mate said that I'd enjoy debating with the group leader. Mind, he let slip after a few jars that the Alpha Gaffer had told him that "Atheists were the easiest to convert."

"Ha! He's talking out of his arse" I said.

"Well, come along then and prove it." - so the gauntlet had been thrown.

Now, if I'm honest I really can't be bothered, as I know I'll just get irked, argue the toss and piss off the faithful. However, I am intrigued to find out how a group of educated, intelligent professionals have formed a group to explore their faith in Santa, sorry, God.

Yet who am I to ask how and why they have their faith? But I can't help myself.

Any reasonably intelligent person will doubt the existence of a higher power - it stands to reason, as the notion of God is rather like infinity - impossible to comprehend and difficult to understand even in theory.

I guess this is the purpose of Alpha Courses;

If other people make a show of having faith, and we collude and do the same, then maybe we can all feel safe together and keep what's left of the magic alive for a little while longer?

I might just go along to see if I'm right...

The nicest Satanist you're ever likely to meet

I knew how much better his life could be before he'd even spoke - if only he'd loose the tash, cut the combover and shorten the grey hair that made ringlets over his ears. Yet I warmed to him the moment I opened our front door last Saturday morning.

He was a portly, barrel of a type-2 diabetic and firmly in his sixties. His large, childlike eyes beamed from behind his thick rimmed glasses and I was helpless to resist liking him. I wanted to tweak his rosy little plump cheeks and take him out for a night of debauchery, where we would get drunk, smoke a bit of weed and perhaps get shagged by a pair of amoral blonds.

That'd sort him out, I thought.

It came as no surprise then, when he produced The Watchtower from his little brown satchel.

"Ahh, I'm afraid I'm atheist" I told him.

"Ohh" he said, still smiling "what makes you feel this way?"

"A myriad things, really. Not least that I see no evidence for, nor have any real need for a god..."

And so we got into the same old tired debate that's written about ad-nauseum on the Atheist Blogroll. I needn't fill you in with the minutiae.

Suffice to say that his grey mac would just have to go.

It was a pleasant chat, all in all, despite his assertion that evolution was false and that it was logical not to "take of the blood". He told me about his wife, who's suffering badly from Trigeminal Neuralgia. Before he could weave this into an allegory about Jesus Christ, I gave him some advice on pain management and the side effects of carbamazepine. He seemed to appreciate this greatly, despite calling me a Satanist.

You see, if you are not 'For' Jesus then, by elimination, you must be 'For' Satan.

"Cool," I said to him, "Satanist sounds much better than Atheist. Cheers!"

Anyway, to cut a long story short, just as he was leaving, he shot a conspiratorial look behind him, leaned in close and whispered,

"I know I shouldn't be saying this, but your the nicest sata, sorry, atheist I've ever met."

We shook hands.

That's right my friends - The anti-christ will be reborn in the guise of an affable, balding thirty-something.

Muhaha.....

Right there under my nose

Before Sunday I don't think I'd met a real life Scientologist. Perhaps I had but they were disguised as normal people. I do have a nose for oddness however, so I'm pretty sure I'd have spotted them - what with their freaky alien tentacles hidden under their trench coats and all.

Imagine my suprise then, when on a family trip to the Newcastle Quayside Market, I bump into a pair of them pedalling their bullshit, bold as brass, right there infront of me!

I guess my sentiments were let slip when I shouted back to Miche "Hey, it's the Church of Scientology! Well I'll never!"

The pair looked over sharpish, but quickly got back to the business of standing at their stall all nonchalantly like. They looked decidedly shifty to me. The chuckling musn't have ingratiated me neither, as I had to hang around inspecting their stall for a good minute or two before they approached me.

"Hi I'm Beth, would you like to take the free stress test?"

"No thanks, I don't think it's up my street" I replied.

"I think you may find it enlightening, sir." She said with a knowing grin. "Tell me, what's your name?"

I swear, it came out of my mouth before I'd even thought it -

"I'm sorry, I'd prefer to remain Anonymous."

How cool was that? Eh? I swear, she went white. If only it was deliberate.

I assumed, given her reaction, that our conversation was over, so I retreated to take the photo you see above. It didn't go down well, because no more than two minutes later they'd packed up their little stall and trolleyed it out of the market.

Ok, if I'm honest, it was only an hour before closing time so they may have hoofed it anyways, but I did feel a slight sense of achievement.

Am I bad?

Incidentally, names are changed and faces are blurred, simply because my beef is with the organisation, not these daft mites who hung around a freezing cold market stall for six hours on a Sunday.

Pleased to see us?

Thought we'd pop out to The Baltic art gallery yesterday to see what some upstanding members of the Christian church are getting all aroused about.

Apparently, depicting Jesus with a large whang isn't seen as a compliment.

I must say, it's a prominent sculpture. Though high art of course, shouldn't be defiled with cheap tabloid innuendo.

This blasphemy I shall refrain from.

Phnarr...

Buy one soul, get one free

Perhaps Pope (eyes of a murderer) Benedict used to sell carpets. Imagine for a moment, Benedict in a cheap tv ad will you;

"Roll up! Roll up! For one month only, if you visit Lourdes I'll cut your time in purgatory by 20%! Satisfaction guaranteed. (Deposit non-refundable. Terms & Conditions apply. Offer ends 12am 8th December)."

Surely he's taking the piss.

Sign of the times

Came across this church whilst driving to a meeting in Newcastle. Gave me a wry smile.

Right here, if you're interested;


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A lump in my throat

So you're faced with the choice to accept a blood transfusion and live to care for your new born baby, or refuse it on theological grounds and die.

What's the morally compelling choice? To accept the treatment, despite your belief that it's a sin, so that you can raise your children and give them the love they need. Or, refuse the treatment and die, leaving your children bemused and motherless.

Emma Gough chose to die last week, after giving birth to twins, because the bible told her it was the right thing to do.

Honestly, my heart aches for those poor, wretched children.

And the award for the most ironic protest 2007 goes to...

Writing about the Westboro Baptist Church demonstrations the other day reminded me of this image.

No such thing as a canon

I must say, I admire Jonathan Sacks - the chief Rabbi of the UK's Orthodox Synagogues. He's an intelligent and forthright speaker on national culture. Amongst his religious counterparts, he's the most erudite I think.

It goes without saying that I disagree with him on some fundamental points, however, my ears perk up when he's wheeled into Radio 4 as the religious pundit. Also, I take the time to read what he has to say in the press. He writes well and often makes me think.

Which says something about him perhaps...

His latest article in The Times however, has rather stuck in my craw. I expected more from him frankly. The piece, in my view, is nothing more than a middle class, middle aged diatribe of modern culture and all of its 'ills'. He has an obvious problem with multiculturalism, moral relativism and the democratisation of information that our digital age has provided for us.

I urge you to read it first, as he is a superb writer and thinker. Way beyond my amateur attempts... However, let me outline why he's pissed me off;

"Multiculturalism has run its course, and it is time to move on. It was a fine, even noble idea in its time. It was designed to make ethnic and religious minorities feel more at home, more appreciated and respected, and therefore better able to mesh with the larger society. It affirmed their culture. It gave dignity to difference."

" But there has been a price to pay, and it grows year by year. Multiculturalism has led not to integration but to segregation."

No, the multiculturalist policy of the UK has led to the largest natural influx of migrants in modern times. These migrants, by and large, contribute positively to our economy and culture, as they always have. Of course there are pockets of separatism where cultures do not mix. We read stories each day of racist crimes and discrimination. What we rarely read about however, is how the vast majority of us rub along quite nicely thankyouverymuch.

This got my shackles up immediately;

"But there was something else happening at the same time, of great consequence: the slow demise of morality itself, conceived as the moral bond linking individuals in the shared project of society."

In every age of humanity, there have been naysayers decrying the moral decline of decadent society. Even in the age of Plato. What makes Jonathan think there's a dangerous decline? I'll tell you - it's the decline of Judeo-Christian morality in modern culture, that's what.

"In 1961, suicide ceased to be a crime. This might seem a minor and obviously humane measure, but it was the beginning of the end of England as a Christian country; that is, one in which Christian ethics was reflected in law."

Damned right too, why should "Christian" ethics be the supreme moral order? I'm afraid Mr Sachs, you're simply afraid that the establishment you belong to is loosing its power upon us.

And so, he lets slip his moral absolutist sentiments;

"If there is no agreed moral truth, we cannot reason together. All truth becomes subjective or relative, no more than a construction, a narrative, one way among many of telling the story."

Ok, and the alternative is what? That we subscribe to an ultimate moral authority, formulated some two thousand years ago, in a culture where stoning was considered acceptable? Now I know that Judeo-Christian morality has developed, yet at its roots is the immutable, immovable truth of "God".

If morality comes down to a simple right or wrong, then how in the world are we to reason with one and other? I can only reason with you if we have an agreed moral truth? Surely not. How, if morality is relative, does this inhibit reasoned debate? Quite the opposite I say - if we appreciate that our own personal or cultural moralities are only understandable in how they're relative to another, then, and only then, can true 'empathy' occur.

"Right or wrong, one thing is clear: the new tolerance is far less permissive than the old intolerance."

Eh?

" Ours is a transitional age, as revolutionary as the move from agriculture to industry. The growth of computing, the internet and satellite television will change life as much as any epoch-making development in the past."

Now he's making some sense.

"With the new technologies the idea of an autonomous national culture disintegrates. Until recently, national cultures were predicated on the idea of a canon, a set of texts that everyone knew. In the case of Britain they included the Bible, Shakespeare and the great novels. The existence of a canon is essential to a culture. It means that people share a set of references and resonances, a public vocabulary of narratives and discourse. Until the early 1950s a politician could quote the Bible and expect people to know what he was alluding to. No longer."

Now, this is where he really began to piss me off.

His notion of a 'canon' of text in which a nation shares its understanding is nothing more than a delusion of the ruling classes. Frankly, for time immemorial, the masses have not given two flying fucks about Shakespeare, the bible and the great novels.

Culture is what it is, and has always been - The masses consume what is palletable and easy to digest, whilst the ruling classes bleat on about culture and "required reading". This shared canon of morality existed only within a small section of society. The only difference today is that the culture of the masses is more visible than it's ever been, what with the TV, radio and the wonderful Internet.

Mr Sach's article reflects I think, the fear of the ruling classes of loosing their control over us, the masses. A canon? There has never been, nor will there ever be, a true canon of morality and culture.

Moral absolutes have got us so far. Now is the time that we discard them, for they limit our growth as a society. Contrary to the belief of Mr Sachs et al, we live in the most peaceful and tolerant times that human kind has ever enjoyed. Things are not getting worse. Mostly things are on the up.

Rant over.

That Mithras Blokey

This page is typical of the many that debunk the Jesus myth as nothing more than a conglomeration of pre-existing deities. Whilst I've no doubt that there is truth in this notion, the link between Mithras and Jesus seems to be tenuous at best.

Now, I'm no scholar of religious history, you shouldn't take my word as gospel. I know of at least two esteemed readers who posess the means to, or knowledge of, this matter way in excess of mine. I'd be interested to hear their points of view.

So, on to the business of debunking the debunked;

Mithras was born of a virgin on December 25th in a cave, and his birth was attended by shepherds.

Falseish. Mithras was born out of a rock. His 'birth' was witnessed by shepherds though. Apparently they dragged him from the rock. I suppose then, the rock / virgin metaphor can be used, though it seems a bit of an imaginative leap to be took seriously I think. It's conceivable that Mithras would have left a 'cave' behind perhaps.

Mithras was worshipped as a sun god. It stands to reason then, that a festival to celebrate him would be close to the winter equinox. Mithras was far from alone in this respect. There are myriad sun gods around the world being worshipped right now. It's likely that Christmas did subsume these 'pagan' festivals, though to attribute this specifically to Mithras again seems too much of a leap of faith for me.

He was considered a great traveling teacher and master.

Erm, find me a religious leader who wasn't? This is by no means a spooky coincidence.

He had 12 companions or disciples.

Mithras had only two companions - Cautes and Cautopatres. Nowhere are the ten missing disciples mentioned directly, either in writings or imagery.

Mithra's followers were promised immortality.

Perhaps this is valid. Though again, hardly a spooky coincidence. Notions of immortality / heaven / reincarnation are a common facet of most religions.

"As one Mithraic scholar put it, Mithraism "surely offered its initiates deliverance from some awful fate to which all other men were doomed, and a privileged passage to some ultimate state of well-being." [MS.470] Why is this a good guess? Not because Mithraism borrowed from Christianity, or Christianity borrowed from Mithraism, or anyone borrowed from anyone, but because if you don't promise your adherents something that secures their eternity, you may as well give up running a religion and go and sell timeshares in Alaska!"

He performed miracles.

Perhaps he did, I can find no direct examples of them however. Besides, miracle wrangling is a prerequisite to godhood surely?

As the "great bull of the Sun," Mithra sacrificed himself for world peace.

Mithra did not "sacrifice himself" in the sense that he died; he was not the "great bull of the Sun", but rather, he killed the bull. Mithra could only be said to have "sacrificed himself" in the sense that he went out and took a risk to do a heroic deed

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Anyway, I think I've made my point. If you want to find out more, you could do no worse than starting here. Of course there's little doubt that the Christian myth took inspiration from many sources. But we should be cautious when simple explanations like the Mithras - Jesus are spouted. However attractive they are.

I'll leave you with this Steven Fry clip from the superb QI.

Mithras the Messiah

I've been off work today so that Miche & I can have some time together sans kids. It's a rare treat for us to be adults together.

We've been hiking around the moors with the dog, exploring Hadrian's Wall. I was delighted when we came across this Roman Mithraic Temple, as I'd been wanting to post about the Greco-Roman god Mithras for some time now.

Here's a Google map of exacly where we were. Have a scoot about east and west and you'll see loads of un-excavated Roman ruins. It's really quite fascinating if you're that way inclined.


View Larger Map

Mithras, according to many sources, has remarkable similarities to Jesus;

• Mithra was born of a virgin on December 25th in a cave, and his birth was attended by shepherds.
• He was considered a great traveling teacher and master.
• He had 12 companions or disciples.
• Mithra's followers were promised immortality.
• He performed miracles.
• As the "great bull of the Sun," Mithra sacrificed himself for world peace.
• He was buried in a tomb and after three days rose again.
• His resurrection was celebrated every year.
• He was called "the Good Shepherd" and identified with both the Lamb and the Lion.
• He was considered the "Way, the Truth and the Light," and the "Logos," "Redeemer," "Savior" and "Messiah."
• His sacred day was Sunday, the "Lord's Day," hundreds of years before the appearance of Christ.
• Mithra had his principal festival of what was later to become Easter.
• His religion had a eucharist or "Lord's Supper," at which Mithra said, "He who shall not eat of my body nor drink of my blood so that he may be one with me and I with him, shall not be saved."
• The Catholic Encyclopedia is quoted as saying that Mithraic services were conduced by "fathers" and that the "chief of the fathers, a sort of pope, who always lived at Rome, was called 'Pater Patratus.'"

You can imagine how attractive these ideas are to the sceptic. However, what sounds too good to be true, probably is. So tomorrow night, I'll share what little I've learned myself about Mithras.

After all, Bertrand Russel once said that "if a man is offered a fact which goes against his instincts, he will scrutinize it closely, and unless the evidence is overwhelming, he will refuse to believe it. If, on the other hand, he is offered something which affords a reason for acting in accordance to his instincts, he will accept it even on the slightest evidence. The origin of myths is explained in this way."

It's a miracle!

Shamelessly purloined from here.